


Word on the Street

by Lets_call_me_Lily



Category: Elementary (TV), Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Background Case, Bagels, Community: intoabar, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, It's For a Case, mention of past addiction, mention of racial profiling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/pseuds/Lets_call_me_Lily
Summary: Eliot Spencer walksinto a barup to a hole in the wall bagel place and meets ... Alfredo Llamosa! (Then they go to a bar).A Ficathon Goes Into a Bar 2020 fill!
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22
Collections: A Ficathon Goes Into A Bar





	Word on the Street

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a very indistinct time frame when Alfredo is sober but before Elementary begins, and after Moreau but before Leverage for Eliot.
> 
> Eliot is former military specialist and now an independent “retrieval specialist”, Alfredo is a former heroin addict who started stealing cars at the age of 14 and is an expert at bypassing their security systems.

Word on the street is, Eliot Spencer works alone.

Word on the street is also that he’s the best at what he does, which is perhaps the reason that Alfredo is standing in line for bagels right now. That, and the payout that Spencer’s voice on the phone had promised him (word on the street is, Spencer’s word is his bond). 

The bagels are also alright, he admits as he waits in the bread-scented dusk. It’s a good place to meet; crowded enough not to attract attention, open pavement in case a quick escape is needed, and comparatively little chance that he’ll be pulled up for “loitering”. Hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, Alfredo hunches his shoulders against the evening chill and steadily advances through the queue.

As he reaches the counter, a voice barks, “two of the classic” to his immediate left, and a tanned arm with a leather cuff curves around him to slide forward a twenty. Alfredo almost starts, but he’s used to suppressing reflexive reactions, so he just nods confirmation to the lady’s raised eyebrow.

Paper bag in hand, he lets himself be directed by the soft pressure at his elbow, which disappears when they make it round the corner back to the main road. A head of smooth dark hair, tied up in a little ponytail, materialises at his shoulder and bright blue eyes give him a twinkle in the streetlight.

He glances down at Spencer, who’s shorter than expected.

“Where to?” he asks.

Spencer keeps stride beside him and tips his chin forward. “Your choice, man. Just pass me one of those bagels while they’re still warm.”

The concession is, Alfredo thinks, surprisingly decent of him. But he guesses that Spencer can afford to be decent, seeing as he’s the one with an international reputation. He tries not to feel flattered.

Bumping shoulders faux-companionably as he hands over the bag—no need to get his hands oily from cream cheese and lox—Alfredo murmurs an address and starts leading Spencer to a bar that he’s frequented a couple of times. 

They sit at a booth, Spencer’s back to the wall and Alfredo with his knees awkwardly bunched under the table. He’s usually at the bar, where there’s a good view of the goings on _and_ space for his legs to stretch out, but privacy trumps comfort today. Alfredo orders a cola, because he’s decided he’s not going to switch over from one addiction to another. Spencer asks for the house brew.

Once the waitress walks away, thoroughly charmed by a wry grin and a “How ya doin’?”, Spencer motions Alfredo closer, then grumbles at him about a stupid client that has asked for the retrieval of particular items located in New York. He doesn’t say who the client is, or what the items in question are.

“I need,” he says, scowling, “a distraction, and the mooch really loves his car. No need to hurt a thing of beauty, though, so that’s where you come in.” 

When he shows Alfredo the car, Alfredo’s fingers twitch on the table at the thought of getting behind the wheel. If he had a car like that, he’d love it too.

“So, what, am I taking it for a joyride? Helluva risk, and I’m not in this game to get arrested, Spencer.”

“No, you’re gonna make it disappear in broad daylight without tripping a single alarm.” Spencer looks up at him in challenge. “He has an afternoon appointment uptown once a week that you can take advantage of. By the time he’s finished throwing a hissy fit and found the car, you’ll be safe as houses and I’ll be out of the country.”

They pound out the details, synchronise watches, and then Spencer claps him on the back and walks out with a tip and a wink to the waitress. Alfredo lingers over his coke. It’s a solid plan, and a damn good payout.

Word on the street is, Eliot Spencer works alone.

This time, word on the street is wrong.


End file.
